Caitlin rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if Meredith was a particularly stupid child.

‘Because you just take whatever you want, even when it doesn’t belong to you, without giving a shit about anybody else’s feelings, don’t you?’

It was Meredith’s turn to shake her head. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know…’

She felt in her back pocket for her phone, to see if there was some discreet way she could call 999, or Gemma, yell at her to get back here with help, then barricade herself in the bathroom. But what if Caitlin then went straight off and killed Pete?

What if she’d already killed Pete?

‘Greenham Common,’ Caitlin spat. ‘I saw you.’

Meredith frowned. She didn’t recall seeing her. ‘I remember you telling me about it, that you were going, in a camper van with a load of others. That was why I went, because I had a teddy-bear costume. We all got arrested. Next thing I heard was that you’d been charged with assault. But what did that have to do with me?’

In her head she was whispering, Hold on Pete, I’ll get you out. I’ll get you back. Just hold on a bit longer. Please don’t be dead.

‘God, you really haven’t a clue, have you?’

Caitlin advanced towards her, suddenly snaking out an arm and grabbing Meredith’s throat in her fingers. It felt like an iron pincer. Meredith couldn’t breathe.

With her free hand, Caitlin delved behind Meredith, into the back pocket of her dungarees, and whipped out the phone, stuffing it deep about her own person – Meredith couldn’t see where, because so many white spots were dancing jigs in front of her eyes.

Caitlin frisked her one-handed, hard and efficient, slapping rather than patting her down: hips, crotch, front and back pockets. She slapped harder and harder, until the slaps turned to punches; kidney, belly, side, breast…

She spoke fast and low, the words seeming to run together: ‘You stole the love of my life. You ruined my life, you left me with nothing. You took Sam. You just fucking took her. It’s your fault they locked me up. Seeing you with her, seeing you kissing each other in your stupid fucking teddy-bear costumes, it’s your fault I went mental. You’re lucky it wasn’t you. If I’d been close enough it’d have been your fucking eye I poked out.’

Sam.

Samantha.

Caitlin was still on her hitting spree. Finding nothing else in Meredith’s pockets, she punched her hard in the eye, and Meredith would have fallen backwards if Caitlin’s hand hadn’t still been around her throat. Through the agonising crimson haze, she had a flash of memory: being in the shop with Caitlin wittering on and on about Sam, how wonderful Sam was, how much she loved Sam.